I’m so unbelievably fucked.

  Satoshi steps up to the mat—all six foot whatever of him—dressed in a tight ribbed white long-sleeved top and jet-black sweatpants that sit low on his hips. Why did I even notice? And why do I hate that others noticed too?

  My heart hammers as if it knows something my mind hasn’t quite caught up with. I’m about to get my ass handed to me or be dragged out as a body.

  “OH SHIT!” a voice that makes me want to smack my head against a wall, bellows with barely concealed anticipation. Aki scrambles over to me, poking my arm. Repeatedly. “Ren! Ren! If you die, I’m telling everyone you were obsessed with me after our long, very pleasurable night together.”

  My cheeks burn.

  My options are avoiding Satoshi’s death blows or die and leave a humiliating legacy behind.

  Lovely.

  Fushiguro-Sensei clears his throat. “Fuju. Get off the damn mat.” The vein in his temple pulses. “Now,” he growls.

  Aki gives a lazy two-finger salute in our sensei’s direction and winks at me before twirling in place and backing away with a maddening smirk. If I survive this spar, I’m breaking my morals and killing him. I’ll finally know peace.

  Hiro from class earlier, slides in behind me. I tilt my head towards him.

  “He’s a master at hand to hand combat,” he murmurs, low. “Try to keep him at range. He’s an ass but he won’t destroy the training room.” He glances at Satoshi. “He’ll condense Blue or Red. It’ll hurt if it hits ya, but you’ll live.”

  I nod once, and Hiro steps back.

  Blue is attraction, Red is repulsion. So I’ll either get smashed against a wall or dragged towards Satoshi. This is going to hurt like hell.

  A corner of Satoshi’s mouth lifts in a smirk, and the blue flecks in his bright eyes seem to dance. The prick is enjoying this. My stomach twists like I’ve eaten bad sushi.

  My ribs no longer hurt. They’re probably about to be broken again. I’m not looking forward to the lecture I’ll get from Shiori about that later.

  “She’s a little out of her comfort zone, don’t you think?” Aki argues from the corner of the room, where he stands with Shinji.

  He’s friends with Satoshi’s friends? That’s news to me.

  “Relax, Fuju,” Satoshi glances over his shoulder, gaze hardening as he meets Aki’s smug grin. The look that Satoshi gives him makes me realise he’s been holding back on the death stares with me. “She’ll live. If I decide so.”

  Aki raises both his hands in a placating gesture, his smile never faltering.

  “I think you could go easier on her—” Misaka calls to Satoshi

  “No one asked what you think, Tanaka,” he fires back as he empties his pockets handing his phone and keys to a girl in all black, with half her hair covering her face—I recognise her from enrolment trials. She was watching the feed of Zone Four.

  I swallow down the bitter, irrational spike of jealousy. There’s no time to dive into whatever the fuck that means. Satoshi is already stepping back up to the mat.

  My eyes flick to the cursed tool rack beside Fushiguro-Sensei.

  “You don’t think you’ll need a tool?” I ask, catching the staff that Sakura throws at me, spinning it behind my back as I stand in a defensive stance. He’s built like a brick wall. Broad shoulders. Tightly coiled muscular arms. He’s a big target. Hard to miss a target this big.

  “Nope. I never use tools. Not when I have my technique.” A wicked smile curves his mouth as he readies himself into a fighting stance. “Let’s go.”

  “Gojo. No Infinity in spars. Make it fair.” Fushiguro says as he folds his arms over his chest.

  Satoshi clicks his tongue and flicks his fingers. Infinity dissipates instantly. No blurred aura. I can actually hit him. I might have a chance to win if I focus.

  My heart threatens to beat out of my chest as I wait for him to strike. This mat is only fifteen feet in both directions, and yet my world narrows to the boundaries and the danger within.

  He’s not my friend. He hates me as much as I hate him. He can kill me, and he wouldn’t even get a slap on the wrist. Dad would probably thank him for removing the weak link in the family.

  I swing the staff and spin with the movement, aiming the bladed end for his aggravating face.

  He fucking catches the end of the staff, closing his hand around the pole, tutting at me. “Gotta be faster than that, Renegade.”

  He’s fast. Insanely fast. He isn’t holding back like in training. He’s never moved at this speed before.

  Out-manoeuvre him. It’s the single advantage I have, if the past year training with Fushiguro has taught me anything, it’s that I can intellectually beat nearly every opponent I face.

  He gracefully dodges the next swing and hooks his foot around my ankle. The training room spins and I slam onto my back, the impact forcing air out of my lungs. My ribs make a sickening crunching sound and I cry out.

  Satoshi frowns and steps back, offering a hand up.

  “That shouldn’t have hurt that much. I heard that crack.” His eyes flit over me. I wince as I let him pull me up.

  I don’t understand. I’ve been reinforcing my body with cursed energy. Why was that so excruciating?

  Shaking off the feeling of unease, I snatch my hand from Satoshi’s.

  “I’m fine,” I wheeze. “We’re not done yet.” My hand clutches my ribs and I grind my teeth. I’m not going down this easily.

  He throws the staff at me. My hand snaps around the wrapped handle. I drag my foot slowly behind me and bend my knees. I’m injured. But I can still fight.

  The staff shakes in my grasp. I pull it back with my dominant hand and launch the bladed end at Satoshi’s chest.

  He blocks the weapon with his forearm. I blink, and he vanishes. Hot breath caresses my neck.

  “Going for the kill, Renegade?” he whispers.

  A gasp tears from my throat. I’m suddenly hyper-aware of how close he is. How his chest presses against my shoulders.

  I whirl on him. He’s gone. Again. He whistles harshly from the other side of the mat. The sound rings in my ears, grating on my nerves.

  My blood boils as he kicks the staff off of the mat. Fushiguro catches it without glancing up from his notes.

  My chest heaves from the pain lacing my ribs. I drag my eyes to track his movements. A futile attempt. Focus on his cursed energy. I’ll be able to follow him easier than relying on my eyes alone. If there’s one thing I can thank Dad for, it’s drilling the different applications of cursed energy.

  Strong arms wrap around me.

  Fuck.

  His arms lock across my ribs and he might as well be made from stone for all the give in his frame. I can’t smash my head back. I wouldn’t reach his face, if anything it would jar him.

  “Don’t trust a single person in this room.” He warns in a hiss, his breath ghosts over the shell of my ear and I fight the shiver that runs up my spine. Even though we’re surrounded by the second and first years, I realise he’s quiet for a reason. This is a lesson meant for me. Only me.

  “If you’re talking about Sora. I’m well the fuck aware.” I counter, my voice just as low. He pins my arms behind my back, my shoulder protesting at the unnatural angle. I don’t move. I won’t let him think he’s won.

  He kicks my feet from under me and drops me unceremoniously onto my ass. Smirking over to Misaka, who scowls at him in return. Sakura flips him off from Misaka’s side.

  “No, Renegade. Sora isn’t your only threat,” he leans over me and shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, strolling back to the other side of the mat.

  Can this guy ever speak like a normal fucking person? Why does he always talk in mysteries? I loathe him.

  My ribs scream as I stand, causing me to grimace. I can’t focus on his vague advice right now. Everyone is watching and I’m getting beaten like a ragdoll.

  He hasn’t even used his cursed technique. This is all some big power play. I know Hiro said he was a master at hand-to-hand combat, but I underestimated how serious that statement was.

  Sakura offers me the staff again and I shake my head, opting to grab the throwing stars from the weapon rack. I step back onto the mat, and Satoshi raises a brow at me.

  “Throwing stars? Really?” He rolls his shoulders. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.” He curls a finger in a mocking ‘come here’ gesture.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  My fingers tighten around the weapons. Focus, Ren. Relax. He wants you to lose control and make mistakes. My jaw unclenches and my eyes slowly slide shut. Drawing a deep breath, I open my eyes slowly and exhale.

  “There it is.” Satoshi’s smirk sharpens.

  The weapons feel light in my hand and I slip them between my fingers. Satoshi throws his arms out either side of him.

  “Hit me with everything.” He commands.

  Wish granted.

  I imbue the stars with my cursed energy. Slowly. Fushiguro taught me that trickling your energy prevents the tool or weapon from breaking prematurely.

  Drawing on the reserves deep in my core, I propel them with atmospheric pressure, aiming for his neck.

  He flicks the weapons from the air with his fingers.

  “Better.” He says as he deflects my follow up blow, without so much as a hitch in his breathing. My movements are sluggish from the ache in my ribs. “If you’re against a sorcerer, going for the throat is your best option.”

  I say a silent prayer to Izanami for patience. Don’t lose your cool. Fury will only make your cursed energy erratic and harder to use.

  Kicking out my foot and pivoting, my leg swings for his ribs. He blocks it, grabbing my thigh.

  The force throws me off balance, directly into his space.

  My eyes flick down to the throwing star I didn’t throw. It’s in my hand—tearing at the fabric near his crotch.

  “I don’t fancy being a eunuch today, Renegade.” His voice drops lower. “But I appreciate the enthusiasm.” His grip on my thigh tightens.

  The throwing star clatters to the mat, slipping from my grip. I don’t spare it a glance. My eyes stay locked on Satoshi’s face. He stares down at me and my lips part.

  His free hand lifts between us and glows red.

  FUCK.

  Red flickers in his palm and the force of repulsion throws me across the mat.

  I fly through the air and land on my feet, boots digging into the soft foam beneath me. I throw my arms out for balance.

  My ankles click from the impact and I inhale sharply. I’m still standing, but now I’m in more pain.

  Sakura and Misaka move in unison, rushing to the edge of the mat.

  “Tanaka. Yashiro. Unless you want to get hit by the Limitless technique, back away from the spar,” Fushiguro snaps. They freeze, glancing at me for confirmation.

  “I’ll be fine.” I hold up my hand and smile tightly. They reluctantly retreat back to the edge of the room, with furrowed brows. They don’t believe me. But I have to show everyone here I won’t go down without a fight.

  I begin to circle Satoshi, ignoring the throbbing in my ribs and ankles, and to my annoyance, he doesn’t even face me. He just stands in the centre of the mat, trainers planted and his arms hang loose as I move around him.

  “You striking anytime today?”

  Fuck him.

  I punch forward, reinforcing my fist with cursed energy. He ducks and my hand sails over his shoulder missing him by inches. My stomach drops as I see Red flare at his fingertips again. I brace my body for impact and squeeze my eyes shut.

  I’m airborne for a heartbeat before I smack into the mat. My left hip takes the brunt and the following popping sound vibrates through me. I yelp in agony. But he’s not done. He stalks towards me with Blue glowing in his hand. So this is how it ends.

  Shouting overlaps from the crowd. I can barely make out what’s being said over the ringing in my ears. But I definitely hear someone scream, and multiple hurried footsteps. I refuse to rip my gaze away from Satoshi. If he’s going to kill me, he’s looking me in the eyes as he does it.

  Black spots crowd the corners of my vision. I blink hard. My hip is dislocated and I can taste iron in my mouth. When did I bite my tongue?

  My heart stutters in my chest. Satoshi won’t need to strike me. I’m dying. My mind spirals and I force myself to stay conscious. I bare my teeth at Satoshi as he reaches my prone form, spitting blood onto his feet.

  It’s now or never. I concentrate multiplying cursed energy against itself—negative x negative = positive. I finally understand what Shoko meant. Come on.

  Heat flares in my core and my body glows brightly as my hip pops back into place. Satoshi stares down at me with a wicked smirk. Someone grabs him from behind, forearm locking across his chest, trapping his arms. I catch a glimpse of ash brown hair over his shoulder. Shinji.

  The pain in my ribs vanishes and I push myself onto my feet.

  “Congrats, you just learned Reverse Cursed Technique, Renegade.”

  Oh gods. He knew what he was doing the whole time. Fury ignites in my chest. I glare at him as I slam my palms into his chest. Shinji—to give him credit—holds him in place. Satoshi doesn’t even bother to pry his arms from around him.

  “YOU NEARLY KILLED ME! SO THAT I’D LEARN TO HEAL MYSELF! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?” I screech. My hands shake from the adrenaline.

  “Ren,” Fushiguro-Sensei stands to the side of me, gripping my wrist lightly. “This was the only way.”

  My head snaps to him. “You knew?” Disbelief burns through my body. “You knew what he was doing—and you stood there and let him drag me to the brink of death? Humiliate me?”

  Misaka shuffles into my peripheral. Her eyes are puffy and tears stain her cheeks. Sakura follows, her jaw working overtime.

  “Yes,” He replies, hand falling from my wrist as I drop my palms from Satoshi’s chest. “You needed to learn reverse cursed technique. To survive.”

  Misaka and Sakura flank me. Sakura’s rose gaze lands on the blood dried at the corner of my mouth. Misaka pulls an arm around me.

  “I fucking hate you.” The words spill from my lips before I can shut my mouth.

  Fushiguro turns and walks back to his position at the front of the room.

  “I think she’s been taught enough for the day.” Hiro barks, reminding me that there are more people present. No, this whole thing is fucking entertainment.

  Satoshi wrenches himself from Shinji’s hold and fixes his top.

  “Kaiko,” He arches a brow at Hiro, as if to remind him of his place. “She trains under me.”

  “Fuck off, Toshi.”

  To my surprise, Satoshi huffs a laugh. His shoulders relax and his hands slide into the pockets of his sweatpants, tugging the waistband lower on his hips.

  Heat coils low in my gut.

  Beautiful. Fucking. Prick.

  Misaka leads me to the edge of the room, with Sakura two steps behind. The relief in Misaka’s eyes is palpable when we stop. “You alright?”

  I nod. Fingers trembling as I reach for a water bottle in the cooler by the entrance. Satoshi has had every chance to kill me, and he let me walk away. What kind of game is he playing? I gulp down the water. The ice cold liquid soothes the simmering rage in my chest.

  “Tanaka,” Satoshi calls from the opposite side of us.

  Misaka’s head snaps up and her jaw locks.

  “She could use a little less coddling and a little more training.”

  Satoshi stares Misaka down until she looks away.

  Fushiguro calls the next match.

  “I’m surprised he let you live,” Shiori says later that day in the east courtyard, as her thumb presses against the muscle between my neck and shoulders.

  The pain is euphoric. Reverse cursed technique is draining so I can’t use it all the time. I was able to heal my injuries, but not the deep ache.

  “I don’t think killing me in front of every first year, second year and Fushiguro would’ve been the right call.” The winter breeze nips at my bare skin and goosebumps ripple along my arms. I lean back against Shiori from where I’m sat on the cold stone bench. Why the hell didn’t I change after that spar?

  “I appreciate that he taught you how to heal yourself. But I’m punching that signature smirk off his face when I see him.”

  “You sure that’s a wise choice?” I retort as a groan slips out.

  Her hands pause on my skin. “He tried to kill you. That’s unforgiveable.”

  “I don’t think he would’ve actually done it.” The admission claws at my chest. I believe that he wouldn’t have killed me after the match ended. But during, I thought I was about to meet death permanently.

  “Because you know him so well?” Shiori challenges, stepping from behind me to crouch in front of me. “Don’t make excuses for him, Ren,” she cups my cheek. “You should’ve ran when you had the chance.”

  “No.” I grip her wrist. “I’m not running anymore.” I raise my chin in defiance and her hand slips from my cheek. She stands and paces back and forth.

  “You’ll die!” She stills as panic flashes in the green of her eyes that fix me in place.

  “Will I? Or is this your fear Shiori?”

  Her face crumples and tears form. “Yes.” Her voice cracks. “It’s my fear. I’m sick and tired of watching the people I love die.” She wipes the tracks from her cheeks and I pull her into a hug. Her arms slide around my waist as she buries her face into the crook of my neck. I rub soothing circles between her shoulder blades.

  I never knew she felt like this. She always seemed so strong. I knew she worried about me, but I didn’t know that she cared about the others who died around her—other than Mum. I never saw her cry over anyone else.

  Guess I wasn’t the only one that Satoshi scared this morning.

  I break my hold and squeeze her shoulder, bracing my hands against both her arms.

  “You don’t have to be strong around me, you know that right?” I count the scars along her neck. A reminder of how much she’s suffered. My eyes soften.

  “I know,” she murmurs, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “But, I’m supposed to be there for you, not the other way around."

  “I’m not a child anymore, I can shoulder your pain too. We’re sisters. We stick together. Through everything.”

  Shiori stares at me for a few seconds. Her breaths come in short and shallow.

  “You’re not a child,” She repeats. She reaches for my face and tucks a few loose strands from my braid behind my ear. “When did you stop being my kid sister and start being Ren?” A ghost of a smile pulls at her mouth.

  “I’ve always been Ren,” I scoff. “But since my trial, I’ve had to do a lot of maturing.”

  A bitter laugh rips from her chest, and she rubs the back of her neck. “Yeah … becoming a sorcerer strips away a lot of your compassion, kindness and childish tendencies.”

  Her words sit heavy in the pit of my stomach. I know the truth and I hate that I have to accept it. Parts of my personality are being ripped away and leaving me with who I am at my core. I hope I’m becoming someone Mum could’ve been proud of.

  A bitter howl of wind snatches my attention back to the moment and I wrap my arms around myself. Shiori pulls me flush against her side and leads me inside.

  “You mentioned that you told Fushiguro you hated him, did you mean it?” she arches a brow as she looks down at me.

  I exhale and the guilt makes my stomach drop. I was so hurt that Fushiguro knew what was happening the whole time. I thought I could trust him, he’s more of a father to me than my own Dad. I glance up at Shiori.

  “No,” I say quietly, shoulders slumping. “I was humiliated and scared. I shouldn’t have told him I hated him.”

  She scrubs her free hand down her face, letting out a slow controlled breath, as she steers me into the hall leading to the common area.

  “You gonna apologise?” she asks.

  “Not today.” I run a hand through my hair. “Gives us both some time to cool off. Plus I have that group thing that Shinji invited me and Misaka to tonight.” We stop outside my dorm room and Shiori reaches for the handle. “I need to get ready. I can finally get someone into my bed.” I grin.

  Shiori pushes the door open and pulls me inside with her, kicking the door shut behind us.

  “Who you planning on bringing here?” She wiggles her brows at me and bites her lips.

  I snort and pry myself from her hold, smacking her arm. “I haven’t decided. I’ve seen a few pretty faces. Shinji would be a solid choice.”

  She grabs my tablet and scrolls to my social media. Tapping his name into the search bar.

  “What are you—” She cuts me off by holding up a hand.

  “Research.” She pulls up his social media profile and wolf whistles. “Well damn, if you don’t take him to bed, I might.”

  “You’re nine years older than him.” I point out.

  “Please. Like I’d steal your only chance at taking a hot guy to bed.” She smirks at me.

  I flop backwards onto my bed, the motion makes my back bounce off the mattress. I grab the light blue fluffy blanket that Mum bought me three weeks before she died from the end of my bed, wrapping it around my shoulders. The warmth is immediate. It’s like the weight of the past week lifts. The fabric still smells faintly of Mum’s perfume—lilac and primrose. I hold the blanket to my nose and inhale deeply.

  Shiori glances at me and her smile softens, making my chest feel lighter than it has in years.

  “Still smells like Mum.” I open my arm to invite her to sit under the blanket with me. She doesn’t hesitate and nuzzles into my side. I cringe at the sudden affection.

  “Stop that,” I scold, but the twitch of my lips ruins the faux anger. “You’re nearly thirty, shouldn’t you be snuggling into a man and not your sister?”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “Hush. Finding a man in this line of work is impossible, they tend to die.” She deadpans.

  She’s not wrong. We’ve both lost a parent, friends and people we connected with. My hand on her shoulder twitches and I pull her closer as I laugh, leaning my weight onto my elbow and resting it on my thigh.

  My sister stands and grabs my hand tugging me up with her, twirling me on the spot.

  “I’m helping you dress and style tonight. If you want to get laid, you need my help.”

  I frown at her and stop myself twirling. “I can find someone.”

  “When was the last time you fucked someone?” she challenges.

  “Eight months ago,” I narrow my eyes at her as she covers her mouth. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m picky.” I swallow hard.

  It’s a weak excuse and we both know it.